The World is On Fire (And No One Can Save Me but You)
by darks1st3r
Summary: Sometimes, she wonders. Is this what Rhaegar felt when he first laid his eyes on Lyanna Stark? Rhaella lives & Sansa is born a Lannister AU.
1. Chapter 1

"I know Father wants a boy, but I hope it's a girl."

Rhaella Lannister, the former Queen of the Seven Kingdoms and the current Lady of Casterly Rock, paused from her embroidery and looked up to meet the mismatched eyes of her stepson, Tyrion.

It has been snowing since this morning, so the former Queen decided to stay in her solar and spend her time making clothes for her new babe while enjoying the warmth of the fireplace. She was later joined by Tyrion, whom she figured was hiding from either Tywin or the Maester. He brought with him a book about dragons, a present from his Uncle Gerion (which she was certain Tywin wouldn't be pleased to see) for his last name day, and began asking her about her family's history, mostly on Aegon's Conquest and the Dance of Dragons.

The topic brought her discomfort, she tried hard not to think of the children she sent away the night Stannis Baratheon and his fleet seized Dragonstone. There were times she wished that she also escaped with them, but she had been too weak to move after losing so much blood and delirious with birthing fever that they all thought she was going to die.

Ser Willem had refused to leave her, and reassured that she'd survive, he even offered to carry her to the ship, but she declined. She told them that she would only dally their escape and she also doesn't want Viserys to see her die, for he already have suffered enough. The Knight reluctantly agreed and left, but not before he promised that he'll bring Viserys and Daenerys to safety and that he'll do his best to see Viserys sit on the Iron Throne.

She was already dying when Stannis arrived, she had thought that he would kill her, yet, until now she can't figure why he had his Maester heal her. After she finally recovered and strong enough to walk, Stannis brought her to King's Landing.

It was strange to see the Red Keep, the place she once called home, not flying Targaryen banners, even more so was the Throne room without dragon skulls.

She was immediately taken to the new King, the Usurper, who killed her firstborn. Her beloved Rhaegar. And stole the seat and crown that now rightfully belongs to her younger son, Viserys.

The sight of him, sitting on the Iron Throne, that was once her husband's, Father's, grandfather's and great-grandfather's, ignited something inside of her, and for a moment, she wanted nothing more but to drag him off of it, rake her nails on his face.

When Stannis informed him that Viserys and the last of their supporters managed to flee along with her newborn daughter, Robert had been very wroth. He bellowed orders to follow them, bring them back to King's Landing and told her that their line must end, that the Targaryens must be eliminated for the madness to stop.

But Eddard Stark; the man who lost his brother and Father because of her husband's ill mind, whose sister was taken by her son, for the same godforsaken prophecy that motivated her Father to wed her to Aerys, the man who had every right to hate and wish the end of their family, called his friend off.

 _They are only children, Robert,_ she remembered him say, _they are innocent of their Father and brother's crimes, leave them be. What harm could they possibly do when the last of the Targaryen armies is gone?_

Robert had scoffed, yet, the young Lord Stark added more.

 _You already killed Rhaegar. Or are the deaths and blood of Elia and her children not enough? How can people respect and follow you if they see you as nothing but a kinslayer and a child-murderer?_

This somehow calmed the new King and he ordered the soldiers to take her away.

The men lead her to a guest chamber where she stayed for several days awaiting for her future. On the seventh day, she was once again summoned to the small council chambers, where Jon Arryn, informed her of their decision to marry her to Tywin.

That was enough to set her off.

She was enraged.

 _How could they even think of wedding her to Tywin Lannister?_

The man who ordered the murder of her good-daughter; sweet, gentle Elia, who had nothing to do with the war, and her grandchildren; beautiful Rhaenys, who managed to lighten the Red Keep, and Aegon, the grandson, she didn't have the chance to meet.

 _A valuable hostage,_ Jon Arryn called her, something that might keep the remaining Targaryen loyalists at bay. And with him married to Lysa Tully, Hoster, Mace and Balon already with healthy heirs, there was no other man left aside from Tywin, who was very vocal with his hatred for his youngest son and heir, the boy he believed to have killed his wife. Arryn didn't mention the Martells, but she was certain that they were never considered as an option.

Jon Arryn explained that it was the only way for her to survive.

She wanted to say no, to reject. She would rather die than do it, yet, she was tempted by the idea that she might have the chance to meet her children again someday. She agreed.

Now, a year after their marriage, Rhaella was finally with child. She ought to hate it for being a Lannister, however, the motherly part of her tells her not to blame the child for its Father's crime.

She shook the thoughts away, not wanting to fall into melancholy and focused on her stepson.

"Why?" She asked Tyrion curiously, "Don't you want to have another brother?"

" _I want to,_ " the boy answered, "but I already have Jaime."

She smiled at the mention of Jaime. Rhaella had always admired the young man for his unconditional love for Tyrion. Jaime was a good man. He did kill her first husband, Aerys, and was branded an " _oath breaker"_ for doing it, but she knows that he did it for a reason. He confessed to her why he killed Aerys, told her of what her former husband planned to do with King's Landing and every person living in it. The boy had been embarrassed while making his confession, and she thanked him for what he did. He should have been called a hero, songs ought to be sung in his praise yet, he chose to keep the truth a secret.

"You also have Cersei." Rhaella countered.

A chuckle involuntarily escaped her lips as Tyrion's expression soured and his lips curled into a deep frown.

Like their Father, Cersei hated Tyrion and never fail to remind him that he was a monster, a demon monkey who killed her Mother.

Rhaella pitied him, seeing how alone he is in Casterly Rock without his brother urged Rhaella to reach out to him. He was surprised at first, but in the end, the two of them formed a bond and both saved each other from the pain and loneliness they had.

Tyrion shot her a mock- glare and Rhaella had to cover her mouth with a hand to stop herself from further laughing.

"I hope the baby won't be scared of me." Tyrion said when Rhaella finally sobered. "Cersei said that she doesn't, that I might frighten your baby."

Tyrion's words caused Rhaella's heart to break and she made a mental note to chide Cersei of the way she treats her younger brother.

"Of course, you won't." She reassured. "I believe you are going to be the best brother in the world."

This somehow lightened Tyrion's mood, changing his deep frown into a grin.

"Truly?"

"Yes." She said. "You are a good boy, Tyrion. Don't let your Father and sister's words bring you down."

"Thank you, Lady Rhaella." Tyrion replied.

Rhaella smiled, she set her embroidery aside, stood up and walked towards her working table. She pulled a small parchment from one of the drawers and sat beside her stepson.

"Now, if you are really that adamant to have a baby sister, you must help me pick a perfect name for her."

"Of course!" Tyrion nodded eagerly and she passed the parchment where she wrote the options.

There were twenty names in her list; ten names for a boy and ten for a girl. Each were taken from the different places in Westeros and though she wanted her child to have a Targaryen name, Alysanne and Duncan were the only ones she added to avoid angering Robert Baratheon.

"Sansa?" Tyrion spoke after scanning the parchment, his brows were knitted in confusion as he looked at her. "It's a Northern name."

Rhaella nodded, "It is."

Only a few names from the Lannister lineage caught her attention so she resolved into adding more from the genealogies of the other families and there were some Northern names she liked that she attached to the list.

"Well, it's a pretty name." Tyrion answered and Rhaella suddenly gasped as she felt a sharp pain in her abdomen. "Are you alright, my lady?" Tyrion immediately went beside her, his voice thick with worry. "Should I call a maester?"

The sensation was familiar, she had experienced it several times and she had always been happy to feel it as was a confirmation that her child is alive and well.

"No, I'm fine, Tyrion. It's just the babe. I think she kicked."

Tyrion's mouth formed an "oh"and excitement filled his eyes, "I think she likes the name."

The former Queen's smile widened as she placed her hand on her stomach and the movement repeated.

"Yes, I think she does." She sighed. "It's decided then, her name will be Sansa. Sansa Lannister."

* * *

I'm sorry about the grammar and vocabulary, I really wish I could write better than this, unfortunately, English isn't my native language, but I will try my best to improve.

The title is taken from James Mcmorrow's song "Wicked Game", the one used in the Season 6 trailer.

To those who have read my other work, "What If", I already started with the Sansa Storm/Jon Snow story, I'll try my best to post the first part within this week.

And I want to thank Janina for her help. :)

Comments and reviews are welcome!


	2. Chapter 2

AN: Sorry for the very late update, I just realized that I haven't posted this chapter yet here.

* * *

 _The pain was unlike anything she had experienced before._

It was a thousand times worst than Daenerys' birth and even more agonizing than her time with Aerys. Her whole body burned, from the strands of her graying, silver hair down to the tip of her toes; every inch, every vein, every muscle. It was as though she was drenched in wildfire, the very ones her family was once obsessed, and she feels like she can almost smell the scent of burning flesh, her own flesh.

Was this what Rickard Stark felt when her mad King of a husband set him on fire? She had asked herself.

But she can barely think of an answer, for her mind was spinning, eyes a blur that she didn't notice people filling in the room, her handmaidens and the maester hovering over her; faces in panic, exchanging nervous and hushed words. Her lips were chapped, her tongue despaired for another soothing touch of the milk of poppy to help her dull the unbearable torment inside.

Another spasm hit and she choked back a sob. Tears had started rolling down her cheeks; she wanted it to stop, she can't do it, no, she doesn't want to do it. She was certain she was dying, her breathing was ragged and was her heart even beating? She doesn't know.

Perhaps this is her last moment in this cruel world, she won't be able to live and see another day. Perhaps if she doesn't answer to the maester's desperate pleas for her to push and move, they'll cut her open in order to save the child. The Lannister heir, Tywin Lannister craved. Her child.

No!

Her thoughts suddenly stopped and her mind was filled with images. Memories of the past, her past life; in the Red Keep while being Queen, in Dragonstone a prisoner of her own husband, her with her Targaryen children, the ones who died and those who lived. It showed her new life. Here in Casterly Rock; as it's Lady, wife to the cold, stoic Tywin. With Tyrion, poor Tyrion who had already seen her as a dear friend, a good companion and perhaps a surrogate mother. And of a child.

Her child. Daughter. Sansa. Sansa.

A babe with Lannister hair and Targaryen eyes. Her eyes. She'll have chubby cheeks and an adorable toothy grin. She might look like a female version of Rhaegar or mayhaps she'll take after her own mother.

Daenerys, Viserys. Her other children, the ones she left. The ones she vowed to see again.

Sansa. Her new babe.

And as if by some miracle, the cold winter air harshly entered her lungs and she gasped taken by surprise. She took it in, breathed it in as if a woman starved of air. Her amethyst eyes, still quite clouded, then met those scared dark ones of the maester, who was standing in between her legs, shaking like a man meeting his death.

"My lady. Lady Rhaella."

Her handmaiden, Elen, the one holding her hand, suddenly called and Rhaella turned, silver brows furrowed as she tightened her grip and looked at the girl quizzically, not quite sure why she was called.

"What?" She gasped, confused.

Elen, whose eyelids were pink from worry and fear for her lady, answered in a quivering voice, "My Lady, you need to push. Please." The girl begged.

The former queen, whose mind was still a bit afloat, nodded and returned her gaze to the maester who gave a quick tilt of the head as though to signal her to prepare. He waved his wrinkled hand and another handmaiden had rushed to her side, to support her back and hold her other hand. While another moved to press a warm cloth on her forehead.

The fire was still there.

The pain had refreshed and now focused on her lower body, it had wrapped itself around her legs like thorned veins while her upper body had turned numb, hindering her to do her task. However, the thoughts of a Lannister hair child with Targaryen eyes had overtaken Rhaella's heart and mind. It gave her force, strong enough to give one last push. She finally had the determination give birth, to bring this child, safe and alive, out to meet the world.

The muscles of her womb worked; moving, stretching. Her teeth clenched and her hands coiled around those of her handmaidens; long nails digging into the flesh of their palms. Sweat formed on the sides of her head, which was quickly wiped by the handmaiden, and she hissed as she started to feel another contraction.

"I-I can see the head now, my lady!" The maester exclaimed. "A little bit more."

And she let it out, the scream that she had suppressed for so long, came, and she shrieked like a banshee calling for her prey. It echoed throughout the halls of the castle and every inhabitant, even the Lord, and his son, shivered, the hairs on their neck standing straight.

The air had once again left her lungs, and the fire was quickly replaced by the feeling of ice, like the winter they are now trapped in, freezing every muscle she had. But she was undaunted, for she had been born of fire and it melts the ice it touches.

She gritted her teeth and with another powerful scream, she pushed.

Birthing a babe was never a beautiful thing, it wasn't something you can compare to art. It was dirty, disgusting, a bloody affair. It can be traumatic. Some women die, some survive and some, they never recover from the fear and trauma it brought that they promise to never have children again.

Rhaella Targaryen-Lannister, however, had survived eight births whilst she was the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. All of them had been difficult and only three children survived. Now, she was Lady of Casterly Rock, and she just delivered her twelfth child.

"A girl, my lady." The Maester said when he handed Rhaella the babe. "I will have Lord Tywin informed at once."

There was a disappointment in his voice, but Rhaella didn't notice it, for her world had focused on the precious bundle in her arms.

"A girl." She repeatedly absently as she gently traced the wisps of golden-red hair on the child's head. The baby cooed, as if knowing her Mother's touch, and slowly she opened her eyes, showing Rhaella the most beautiful pair of Targaryen eyes she had ever seen.

"Sansa," Rhaella whispered, pressing a kiss on the baby's cheek. "My winter child."


End file.
